


sucker’s prayer

by amorremanet



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Illness, Established Relationship, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt Shiro (Voltron), Iverson (Voltron) is Shiro's Godfather, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Pre-Canon, Slice of Life, Zine: Through Space And Time - An Adam & Shiro Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21821560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorremanet/pseuds/amorremanet
Summary: On a return flight from Titan, one of Saturn’s moons, Adam and Shiro almost get home without any major incidents. Everything’s going fine—until Shiro’s illness flares up.A deep breath shudders into Adam. His mind drowns in this situation, but his heart and mouth take over: “What if I can’t do this, sir? You say he wants to see me, but? I can’t, I just?” Forcing himself to meet Iverson’s eye, Adam whispers, “I can’t lose him.”“Neither can I,” comes out gently—but steel slips back into Iverson’s voice when he asks, “If everything’s so hard for us, how bad d’you think it is forhim?”
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	sucker’s prayer

**Author's Note:**

> Written last year/earlier this year for **_[Through Space and Time: An Adam& Shiro Zine](https://twitter.com/adashizine?lang=en)_**, and I’m so excited to finally share it in public! ♡
> 
> Title lovingly stolen from The Decemberists’ song of the same name.

Once the _Arethusa_ and her crew lift off from Titan, Adam’s nerves light up and deny him any rest.

Not that he’s alone, in this. After the storms they weathered—unfortunate side-effects of the Garrison’s terraforming tech—the whole crew’s exhausted and rundown. Yet, sleep after sleep, Takashi smiles without any apparent cracks in his façade, like nothing in the universe is wrong.

All of which is murder on Adam’s anxiety levels. Takashi’s insistently, too-perfectly polite expressions keep Adam glancing over at his boyfriend, rather than more closely watching out the viewport or monitoring the fuel. Maybe it’s unnecessary, but Adam can’t let himself miss any of Takashi’s subtle warning-signs. Nobody else can read them like he can—except Commander Iverson, Takashi’s godfather, who’s waiting in Plaht City.

Dating Takashi Shirogane means learning your way around certain nuances. Bless his heart, he only smiles like this when something’s wrong.

Commander Holt’s visits grate Adam’s nerves less than Takashi’s smiles, but only somewhat. Sometimes, he checks on the _Arethusa_ ’s faster-than-lightspeed tech and artificial gravity generators. Other times, he offers to sit as temporary copilot while one of them lies down. Still further times, Commander Holt reminds them that meal breaks aren’t optional for anybody on his crew.

 _“Considering all the work the Garrison’s medical staff and chefs put into our rations? Seems disrespectful not to eat it,”_ Commander Holt will tell them, like a dad who wants his kids to think he’s cool. _“And that’s not getting into what skipping meals will do to you.”_

At least Takashi hasn’t skipped any of his meds. Earning one of Commander Holt’s tedious lectures about that sounds like Hell.

“You aren’t fooling me,” Adam deadpans, some hundred-and-eighty-five hours since they passed Jupiter, trying not to dwell on any unsubstantiated fears. “I see exactly what you think you’re doing.”

Slouching onto his elbows and the console, Adam smirks out at the black before them. Asteroids surround the _Arethusa_ , but nothing gets so close that Adam and Takashi need to worry. They’ve got a clear path; no better time than now for Adam to affectionately needle his boyfriend. They should ease right into their usual repartee.

Instead, Takashi goes graveyard silent. He’s deathly pale, frozen, with his hands impossibly still around the controls. As Adam looks at him, a chill shocks down his spine.

Head bowed, staring at the desk, Takashi whispers, “Is it really that obvious?”

Adam about chokes on his own breath. “Wait, _excuse_ me?”

“I said—I mean, it shouldn’t—Not that you—It’s only a little, so nobody…” Takashi lets a sigh explode out of him. He shakes his head like he wants to dislodge it from his neck. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“That’s… not especially reassuring.”

“Well, it’s the truth.”

“It doesn’t _sound_ like the truth.” Adam quirks an eyebrow. “Especially since you offered it without prompting.”

“ _You_ started in on me like—” Groaning, Takashi rattles the control-wheel as if shaking someone’s shoulders. Thankfully, the ship doesn’t lurch or veer off-course. But his hands tremble. His knuckles curl so tightly, the strain makes his tawny skin go white.

“I only wanted to say? You look like you could use a nap,” Adam tells his boyfriend because it’s true. “But if there’s something else going on, Takashi? You can tell me.”

If there’s something else, no wonder Takashi hasn’t mentioned it. Since he first told Adam about his illness, they’ve barely discussed it because they don’t need to. Because Takashi’s _fine_. Just the the thought of _anything_ wrong with Takashi’s health, though, makes Adam’s heart pound like it wants to rend its way out of his chest.

“It’s nothing,” Takashi says, and he sounds like he believes it. “ _Maybe_ I’ve been a bit stiff, but—”

“But ‘a bit stiff’ for you is most people’s, ‘How are you still moving.’”

“ _But_ I’m not worried.” His gray eyes flash, locking on Adam. “My specialist at Mercy has an open slot saved for me. I can manage until I get in to see her.” With a small, earnest smile, he promises, “I’ll be fine, Sunshine.”

Adam nods, but he can’t help noticing: Takashi grunts while prying his hands off of the controls. Once he gets them free, flexing his fingers makes him wince, and a quick hit from his electro-stimulator bracelet doesn’t seem to help. For all Takashi swears it’s nothing serious, Adam can’t shake the awful thought, _“What if…?”_

Adonai keep him and preserve him, this flight cannot end soon enough.

* * *

As they approach Earth, Adam tells himself to stay calm and focus. He repeats it like a mantra, a couple times a minute. Too bad he can’t shake the creeping fear something bad might happen. His mind buzzes like his skull’s stuffed up with hornets, and even though he knows better, he keeps glancing at Takashi.

Dragging his eyes back to the console, Adam chokes down a sigh. Takashi looks no worse than he did, the last time Adam checked. But even an easy landing can get complicated if the pilots don’t pay attention.

Reentry goes smoothly, just like the flight. Lt. Whitsel joins Adam and Takashi, fielding the Garrison’s orders on where they want the _Arethusa_ to touch down. As Adam pulls back on the thrusters, Takashi grits his teeth and guides the ship. If Lt. Whitsel notices how firmly he’s holding the controls, she doesn’t say anything.

When they’re down on terra firma, as soon as they’re clear to gather their personal effects, she chirps a, _“Nice landing, boys”_ and scurries off.

Takashi drops his polite smile once she’s gone. With a low snarl, he glowers at his hands. Still gripping the controls, they quiver hard enough to shake his arms. He clenches his jaw. He lets out a heated sigh. He flinches when Adam squeezes his right wrist, eyes clenching shut while his entire arm tenses up. Reaching out for Takashi’s bicep, Adam finds it hard to the touch.

“ _Bracelet_ ,” he hisses. “Please. Get the red button for me.”

“Get the what?” Adam heard fine, but—“You said the red button’s only a last resort—”

“Five on the pain scale. Maybe six. My hands—they won’t—”

“But we could—the other buttons—”

“What d’you always say about _my_ ‘five or six’? It’s anybody else’s _ten_?”

Adam swallows thickly, trying not to choke up. “Still. With how much electricity the red—”

“I _need_ it, I…” Takashi’s eyes gleam with tears and desperation. Seeing him this way kicks Adam in the heart. Even worse, he says, “Adam, I _can’t_ move my hands. I know the red hutton’s dangerous. But, please.”

Adam’s stomach lurches like he might be sick. “Starlight, can’t we think—I’m not sure—”

“But I _am_!” Gulping hard, Takashi fixes his gaze on Adam, and damn, the guilt twists like a knife. “I’m _trying_. But I _cannot_. Move. My hands. I just…” Wincing, Takashi jostles the control-wheel. As his tears spill over, he whimpers, “Sunshine, _please_.”

The air crackles when Adam pushes the red button. He hears the grunt as Takashi wrenches his hands free, then the sigh of deep relief. His bones creak as he shoves himself to his feet. His knees wobble, but Takashi focuses on his hands. With each flex of those long, beautiful fingers, Adam would swear he hears Takashi’s knuckles cracking.

“Thank you,” he mutters, rubbing his right arm.

Adam nods and stands, in case Takashi needs him, but he can’t think of anything to say.

“This flight must’ve…? Or maybe switching up the meds? Or maybe—”

“Don’t try to armchair diagnose yourself, Starlight.” Adam waits for permission before patting Takashi’s shoulder. “It could’ve been a lot of things. What’s important is—”

“Getting in with Dr. Troy. I promise, I’ll call her as soon as Uncle Mitch and Admiral Sanda let us out of debriefing.” An acceptable agreement, and Takashi’s face softens into the warm, earnest smile that he reserves for Adam. “Come on, Sunshine. Got people to see.”

Takashi doesn’t make it two steps before his legs give way. He sighs as he collapses, and his eyelids flutter far too quickly.

Darting in, Adam catches him. Somehow, he manages to slam the button that calls for help. As the sirens blare, Adam eases them down and rests Takashi’s head in his lap.

“You’re okay,” Adam whispers, brushing Takashi’s bangs off his forehead. “You’re gonna be okay. _Please_ , Starlight. Please be okay.”

* * *

The lounge at Mercy Hospital could throttle Adam, it’s so damn hot. He’s shed his gray jacket—unlike Takashi and Iverson, serving as his godson’s medical proxy, Adam had to don his uniform and report for debriefing—but it’s not enough. Even stripped down to a flimsy white t-shirt, Adam’s suffocating. The heat twists around him, straitjacket-snug, and his breath keeps catching in his throat.

He can’t join his jacket on the sofa, though. He can’t stop rustling the phony potted plants. He can’t give up pacing because, if he does that, then _anything_ could happen and _everything_ could stop—which sounds _ridiculous_. But it’s not like he can help Takashi. Adam might as well help himself.

 _Ahem!—_ someone clears their throat. Whipping around, Adam spots the broad figure in the threshold, round belly straining a gray uniform. Adam gasps. Reflexes take over, snapping Adam to attention, even though they aren’t on Garrison property.

Iverson rolls his good eye. “At ease, son.”

Overcome by that permission, Adam slouches to the sofa and drops onto his side. His balled-up jacket makes a decent pillow. The simple question, _How’s Takashi doing?_ , claws the inside of his throat—but Adam’s lips move without spitting anything out. Adonai help him, he can’t get his voice around the words.

“Lucky Dr. Troy was still in her office.” Grumbling, Iverson brushes aside the old magazines and sits on the coffee-table. “The resident who saw Kashi first? Kid looked at his chart and still tried to say his electrolytes got screwed around.”

“Smart guess for normal people? I mean, statistically speaking…”

As if approaching a wounded animal, Iverson scoots closer to the edge. Not that Adam wants his senior officer to loom over him like a thunderstorm, but that’d make sense in ways that Iverson’s soft, unreadable expression doesn’t. He should rage at Adam, demand to know what kind of boyfriend Adam thinks he is and how he could let this happen.

Instead, Iverson sighs. “If you wanna head in? He’d like to see you.” When Adam only shrugs, Iverson quirks an eyebrow. “Nobody else came for him. Nobody else is going to. Are you _really_ gonna stay out here, West?”

Shrugging, Adam shakes his head and makes a sound like, _“I don’t know, sir.”_

Even the idea of what Adam _wants_ to do feels further off than Alpha Centauri. His head’s bogged down and muddied up with too many ideas about what he could do in this situation, none of them fully formed and none of them seeming like a better or worse idea than any of the others. They come up feeling nebulous, surefire ways to damn himself irreparably.

“What if something else goes wrong?” Adam murmurs, cutting Iverson off as he starts what’s probably another well-intentioned pep-talk. “When Takashi collapsed, he—”

“Flare-ups like this happen, even—”

“He was supposed to be getting _better_ —”

“Son, you know there isn’t a ‘better’ with this. Not like you’re thinking—”

“He was _managing_ it better, then. Or I _thought_ he was. He didn’t have any problems—or _hardly_ any—” Grabbing at his t-shirt’s sleeve, Adam shivers. With each deep breath, he tries to will himself to be honest and not to be sick on Iverson’s shoes. “The signs seemed small, like they didn’t matter. How could I _not get_ that he needed—”

“Knock that garbage off, Adam.”

Silently, he furrows his brow up at Iverson. Despite that more personal form of address, the man scowls like he does when cadets start screwing around in class. “Are you really blaming yourself for this? ‘Cause I know that you know better than that, so…”

Leaning closer to Adam, he needles, “What’s _really_ going on, right now?”

A deep breath shudders into Adam. His mind drowns in this situation, but his heart and mouth take over: “What if I can’t do this, sir? You say he wants to see me, but? I can’t, I just?” Forcing himself to meet Iverson’s eye, Adam whispers, “I can’t lose him.”

“Neither can I,” comes out gently—but steel slips back into Iverson’s voice when he asks, “If everything’s so hard for us, how bad d’you think it is for _him_?”

Inarticulate spluttering gets Adam nowhere in the vicinity of an answer.

“You and me, West? No matter what we feel right now, this isn’t _about_ us. We’re out here, talking about not wanting to lose him. But _he’s_ the one who’s sick, who fights like a hellcat, every day, against pain that we can’t imagine because _we_ don’t need to deal with.” Iverson huffs, narrowing his good eye. “And, of the three of us, Kashi’s the one who could die _without_ the man he loves—not today, probably not tomorrow, but some day—unless you get out of your own head and go _be there_ for him.”

Gulping, Adam can’t find any argument for that, nor does he want to, because Iverson is right. As unsteady as he feels, Adam nods and pries himself off the sofa. As wild as his heartbeat races, he shuffles down the hallway, heading for Takashi’s room.

* * *

“Well, did you lose a fight with a box of hammers…”

Hovering in the threshold into Takashi’s room, Adam frowns. He rubs at his elbow, while Takashi pastes on a wobbly smile. It’s like his insistently, too-perfectly polite expressions, but a few shades too vulnerable. Head lolling on his pillows, his lips quiver like he doesn’t have the energy to maintain whatever face he thinks he wants to put on for Adam, which he probably doesn’t. That he’s even _pretending_ like this, when he’s in a hospital bed and hooked up to monitors and an IV, when he could have—

“Seriously, you kinda look like you almost died…”

Adam’s fingers clench so tightly around his elbow, his hand trembles. His whole body jitters, every millimeter of his nervous system burning and telling him to make a break for it, head for the exits, and run as far away as he can get, before Takashi has a chance to leave him, whether because they break up or because another emergency like this happens while they’re in space. Or maybe they could miss important symptoms. They could look too small to matter again, and then they could build up, and then they’ll accumulate until it’s too late to help with—

“See, it’s funny?” Takashi chuckles, sounding half-asleep even with his eyes wide open. “I’m the one who’s sick, but I’m telling you that _you_ look—”

“I get it; I just don’t like it.” Adam slumps into the chair by Takashi’s bedside, then onto his elbows, propping himself up as much as he can. He should sit up straight, try to project some image of strength and stability because it’s what Takashi needs from him right now, but Adam can’t make himself do it. Staring down at Takashi’s blankets, he mutters, “You could have…? When you just…? On the ship, you—and it was like—”

 _Get out of your own head_ , Iverson’s voice repeats in the back of Adam’s mind. _This isn’t about you._

Inhaling deeply, Adam makes himself look at Takashi’s face. With how pale he finds his boyfriend, Adam feels like he could vomit—but he isn’t the one with the degenerative chronic illness. He isn’t the one who’s _really_ sick, not right this moment.

“Joking about losing each other isn’t funny to me? Okay, Starlight?” Adam’s voice cracks around that confession. “You’re gonna get better, right? You aren’t gonna die?”

Curling his hand around Adam’s, Takashi promises, “Not today, Sunshine. Not for a long time.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Personal reactions/interpretations
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
>   * Comments made with the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta).
> 

> 
> The author reads and appreciates all comments, and gets back to all of them eventually, but may be slow to reply due to trying to rein in the ADHD/anxiety cocktail.
> 
> If, for any reason, you don’t want to receive a reply, just put, “whisper” near the start of your comment, and I’ll appreciate it without replying.
> 
> * * *
> 
> As ever, I’m also on Discord ( **amorremanet#5500** ), Twitter ( **[amorremanet](https://twitter.com/amorremanet/)** ), Tumblr ( **[amorremanet](http://amorremanet.tumblr.com/)** , though not quite as often anymore), Pillowfort ( **[amorremanet](https://www.pillowfort.io/amorremanet)** ), and I’m basically always game to talk about whumping my fictional faves.


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